


Father's Sword

by Shatterpath



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 02:55:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What thoughts run through Emma's mind as she travels in the elevator to the unknown danger she is destined to face?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Father's Sword

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by spartan_muse (what can I say, your moniker caught my eye!) who I randomly pulled from the group 'onceuponasocial'. Labeled 'I'm bring it', it's a cool gif of Emma pulling the sword while riding the elevator. See it here: http://onceuponasocial.livejournal.com/72402.html#cutid1. I was seized by Emma's internal monologue complaining about the Freudian perversity of wielding her father's sword. This was a quick and dirty fic, written in less than half an hour on 7-18-12, and is probably really rough.

What am I up against? Knowing Regina and that odd look on her face when I asked, it can't be good. The elevator whines and whirls, adding to the illusion that I’m being swallowed, drawn in by danger and need and a destiny I neither want nor think I’m capable of.

The sword is heavy at my side.

There's something perversely Freudian about this, wielding my father's sword into battle. Snorting in sophomoric humor, I shove the thought away and jerk my hand away from the cool pommel where I’d been fingering it. Argh!

The gun is a more familiar weapon, a sword and shield I know and can rely on. They weigh me down, these weapons, these tools of my trade and what they represent.

Fairy tales are real.

My life here on this mundane earth has all been a lie, a prison and a way to hide me from that same destiny that rides me like a monkey on my back. I fought it and dug in my heels and sneered and denied...

And now I bear my father's sword into battle with the unknown.

Swallowing hard, I reach across my body and bravely wrap my hand around the hand grip, no longer ice cold from how it has absorbed my body heat. With a rush of effort I yank it clear and it flashes menacingly, bravely in the artificial light of the ancient elevator. It's hypnotizing, a clean, ruthless expanse of steel whose soul purpose is death and defense.

And then the elevator lurches to a halt and destiny makes me step forward into the unknown.


End file.
